Tea and Coffee
by Silent Hysterics
Summary: Tendershipping, Ryou/Bakura, yaoi. In which not quite misconceptions take place, and the differences between tea and coffee are pondered.


Title:Tea and Coffee

Rating: K+

Warnings: boy/boy theme, my own brand of humor, some coffee bashing (don't get m e wrong though, I like coffee xD)

Disclaimer: if I owned it, people would know. Oh yes, they would know –insert evil laughter-

A/n: Yes, the cracks of the couch do equal the depths of oblivion xD so this is all fluff, and PWP, but its building up to something dark ad angsty and long. I think… probably. Also, Im entertaining the idea of making this a two-shot, don't know yet. I'm open to suggestions!~

-

-

The microwave 'dinged' with a finalizing sound, prompting the white haired boy to open it. He pulled out a steaming mug, gingerly set it on the counter, and tossed in a teabag. He preferred to boil his tea on the stove, but lately Ryou was getting lazier and lazier about it, instead resorting to the use of the microwave. He would not, however, cook the teabag in with the water, a small part of him stubbornly insisting that all of those strange "microwaves" being blasted through his foodstuffs couldn't be healthy.

The smell of peppermint curled up with the steam, relaxing him. As silly as it were, thoughts of microwaves always made him a bit paranoid, and considering who his roommate was, well, it's really quite ridiculous.

"Speak of the devil…" he muttered, just as Bakura entered the kitchen.

"What's that, hikari?"

"Hmm?" Ryou intoned in what he hoped was an innocent manner.

"I said, what was that?" Bakura leveled him with a glare, hands on his hips and looking only mildly threatening what with his attire. The thief was currently wearing an overly large t-shirt with a faded palm tree logo, and red boxers which hung down to his knees. At Ryou's wide eyed response of silence, Bakura continued, "I distinctly heard something about a devil, which I would assume was directed at me, and-"

Ryou blocked him out. The older man was prone to rants in the morning, something which Ryou was steadily getting used to. Before they had separated it hadn't been an issue. Apparently because Ryou was groggy in the morning, the thief, who shared his physical body, was as well. Now however they were both discovering the differences in chemical makeup. Ryou wondered if the other had always been this way, and his new body was a replica of the old. Or, perhaps, the man's mind retained the information of the old body, and now reflected it in the new?

"-and _really,_ what is it with your people and devils? I mean, back in my day we had spirits, but none of this non-sense about-"

"Bakura," Ryou interrupted, mild irritation breaking through his amusement, "it's too early for this."

Pausing mid rant the thief squinted at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Ah," Ryou muttered noncommittally. "And what was your question?" Despite the fact that Ryou knew exactly what the other was asking, he felt the need to keep the man talking. something about their new situation, the way they could have relatively _friendly _conversations, left him always wanting more.

"What was it you said, and you will tell me why."

"I said," Ryou drew the word out, turning and leaning against the counter. "Speak of the devil." A small smile that almost resembled a smirk appeared on his face. Inside he froze. His posture, his actions, his words, he suddenly realized that he was, however subtly, flirting with his yami.

He wouldn't allow panic to overtake him. Instead, before he could think anymore, he elaborated; "It's just an old phrase, the whole of it being, 'Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.' It's to warn people from speaking about those they should not."

Silence. "Oh."

Ryou swallowed heavily. Grabbing his mug he headed towards the living room. Sat on the couch, after a moment lifting his legs up in front of himself. _What was I thinking?_ He held the mug against his chest, reveling momentarily in its warmth. _It was just… a minor lapse of judgment. Yes, that's what it was._ _I definitely do not have feelings for my yami. I mean, other than what is appropriate. Feelings… Bakura…_

He heard water being poured in the kitchen and focused on that. The two of them had created a routine, of sorts. Every morning he got up and made tea, while Bakura made coffee. Ryou wasn't an advocate of the drink, but after Bakura had tasted it, he had refused to drink anything else for several weeks. Eventually he started to get sick and conceded to including water and occasionally other liquids in his diet (a few of which Ryou did not approve of at all), and he had now balanced out to an acceptable one coffee in the morning, and one at noon.

Buying a coffee maker had been unavoidable then, although Ryou still harbored a secret hope that his yami would eventually tire of the drink. It smelt bad and was, as far as he was concerned, detrimental to ones health. Not to mention, it had a decidedly… undesirable effect upon the thief. At first Ryou had been horrified to find his proud, respectable other half rolling on the floor, giggling uncontrollably, the next moment literally bouncing off the walls and breaking everything he came into contact with… though obviously that was no longer the case. The more he drank it, the more accustomed to it he became, at the present date in time he was only mildly stimulated by the nasty liquid.

When prompted the thief explained that in Egypt they never had such a drink, however they did have teas, both grown locally, and imported from the northern regions of what was now southern Turkey and Syria. These teas were, however, not brewed with taste in mind, but medicinal purposes. Things like sugar and cream were far too valuable to ever be wasted, and so, understandably, they tasted quite bad.

A finger roughly poked the side of his head and Ryou started with a jolt. Nearly spilling his tea, he turned to see Bakura sitting dangerously close to him, a perplexed expression upon his usually devious face. "U-um yes?" he stuttered, something he hadn't done in some years.

Bakura chuckled. "Where'd you go?"

"Egypt, the spice markets," Ryou replied dazedly. Bakura raised a brow as though to say _"Is that so?"_ and Ryou found himself staring in mild fascination at the gesture.

"Why were you talking about me?"

"What?" Now Ryou really was confused, he was sure he'd hadn't been speaking aloud.

"You said speak of the devil, pertaining to me. So you were talking about me."

"Oh no, I was just… thinking about you. Is all…"

"Uh-huh…"

Suddenly Bakura set his mug down on the coffee table, a determined look on his face, and before any of it could fully register in his mind, Ryou was being pushed over the side of the couch, a warm pair of lips pressed ardently against his own. The position was extremely awkward and, at the same time as slender arms were wrapping around his waist, he felt a curious warmth envelope his chest, sliding down to pool at his navel.

"Bakura!" he yelled, pushed the slightly larger boy off of him.

"_What?"_ The other yelled, "Isn't that what you- oh. _Oh."_

Squirming to sit up from beneath his yami, Ryou glared angrily at his shirt, which was now covered in his breakfast. The mug he had been holding lay in the crease of the couch, the last of the amber liquid seeping into the dark depths of oblivion.

"How was I supposed to know you were holding that?"

"You could have looked!"

"You should have just put it down when I put mine down!"

"You didn't give me time, and how was I supposed to know what you were going to do? And what was that, anyways?"

"It was a kiss," the man yelled, which they both realized was somewhat ironic. Neither however seemed likely to take it as it should be.

"Just," Ryou sighed, "go get me a towel."

Bakura sat back on the other, dry side of the couch. "Go get your own towel."

"What?" Ryou stood, no longer able to sit next to the offensive man, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of a suitable comeback to something so asininely childish. He settled for making an angry noise in the back of his throat and yelling "You are impossible!" before storming out.

-

Just outside of the front door stood Yugi and Malik, over for a surprise visit. Yugi's hand hovered over the doorbell, both of their heads inclined towards the door, mouths hanging open.

Malik would have been grinning if he weren't quite so shocked by what he was overhearing. At length he managed to say weakly, "Next time, let's call before dropping in."

-

-

-


End file.
